


Noah Puckerman: Size Queen

by Wearing Cardigans (Haelblazer)



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Angst and Porn, Bullying, Canon Related, Crack Treated Seriously, Creeper Puck, Dubious Consent, M/M, Objectification, Obsessive Behavior, Papa Bear Burt, Sad Ending, Season/Series 01, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexual Humor, Size Kink, Smut, Unrequited Hate, Voyeurism, and it’s a bit cock-worshippy, i love that AO3 imported that tag from my LJ warnings so i'm keeping it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 05:47:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5485856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haelblazer/pseuds/Wearing%20Cardigans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Puck sees Kurt in the shower and becomes obsessed with Kurt’s surprising…size.<br/>Originally posted on LJ June 26, 2010.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Noah Puckerman: Size Queen

**Author's Note:**

> If Puck obsessing over Kurt’s anatomy can be considered a plot, then this has a plot—one that doesn't know whether it wants to be smut or angst. I generally like to focus more on reflecting the characters’ voices, and taking more time to bring Puck around, and I didn’t do that as much as I’d like here, but I really wanted to tell this story. X-posted to [](http://puckurt.livejournal.com/profile)[puckurt](http://puckurt.livejournal.com/).  
> Note from 2015!Me: the tonal shifts in this are kind of strange. I really do mean all of those tags up there.

  
**Spoilers:** Season 1 Episode 4 “Preggers”, Episode 18 “Laryngitis”

As always, William McKinley High School’s star kicker, Kurt Hummel, had lingered on the sidelines of the school’s football field after practice. He spent the time listening to music on his iPhone, stretching, considering his outfit for the next day, and pointedly avoiding eye contact with his teammates. He waited until everybody was gone—or just about everybody, because sometimes Coach Tanaka held one or two guys back to talk (about what, Kurt didn’t care)—and then he’d walk slowly back to the locker room so that he wouldn’t reach the showers until everybody else had already filed out to start dressing. He didn’t mind getting home later because of it; he took advantage of his time alone to relax, reflect on the day, and enjoy the solitude of the school when it was relatively empty. It was also much more peaceful being able to conduct the first stages of his cleansing and grooming routine without a team of morons egging him on about his exfoliants, or the hair mask he used to clear the sweat from his hair, or his alleged desire to see them in the shower.

But this isn’t a story about Kurt’s surprisingly peaceful afternoons. Instead, this is a story about the start of Puck’s rather upsetting ones.

Puck was all about getting out of practice as soon as possible, even if it just meant that he arrived earlier to an underpass where he hung out with the same people he’d seen at practice anyway. So, Puck didn’t like being held back to talk to the coach after practice, and he was tempted to not even bother with a shower afterwards. But he was sticky and he couldn’t stand the smell of himself, so he stripped down, wrapped a towel around his waist, and planned to hop in, soap up, rinse off, and hop out as quickly as possible.

Puck was surprised to hear water running, and he walked into the shower area of the locker-room, where he saw Kurt Hummel in the last stall, facing the wall with his eyes pressed closed to keep whatever foamy product was in his hair from dripping into his eyes.

He’d never given any thought to what the kicker did when it came to locker-room time. He’d never heard anyone on the team complaining about Kurt checking them out or anything, so if he’d thought about it he would’ve assumed Kurt snuck off to the girls’ showers after practice. Apparently he just hung out and waited until everybody was gone. Puck gave him some credit, at least he had the courtesy to keep that stuff under wraps in the showers—he certainly didn’t try to keep it under wraps when he was flouncing around the school in corsets and singing love songs to Finn in the middle of glee. Puck almost snorted to himself—it probably wasn’t even a courtesy thing; the little freak was probably just worried about getting a boner if he so much as stepped into the stall that Finn had just used.

Puck started to enter the stall farthest from where Kurt stood, but he couldn’t help but smirk when he saw a wet towel draped over one of the shower partitions. If Kurt wanted to be one of the team, then Puck was going to treat him as one of the team—and if it was a way to get his bullying fix without incurring the wrath of the rest of the glee club, then that was a bonus. Puck picked up the towel, twirling it up and preparing it to snap at the kicker’s legs; torturing Kurt Hummel again might just provide him with enough entertainment to make up for getting stuck there late. Sure, they weren’t supposed to snap people like that anymore after Finn nearly made Matt sprain his ankle, but everyone did it anyway.

Puck crept over as silently as possible, noticing as he got closer that Kurt was humming to himself. Puck was absently trying to place the tune, stepping into position behind the other boy, when Kurt turned around so that he was standing with his back to the wall, facing out to the walkway with his head tipped back as he rinsed out his hair.

Puck was taken aback by the sudden, unexpected full-frontal view of the other boy. His first thought was _oh, didn’t mean to see that_ , because even if the team horsed around in the showers, it was pretty unspoken that you didn’t go around facing other guys when they were naked. But before Puck could be fully sorry for seeing way more of Kurt than either of them needed him to see, he was overcome by that second thought…

 _Holy fuck._  It was all Puck could think, as his grip loosened on the towel and it fell to his feet. _Kurt Hummel was hung like some kind of porn star._

This was just disturbing. Car-wreck level disturbing, because Puck couldn’t look away.

The rest of Kurt’s body was about what anybody would’ve suspected—slim, dancer’s build, either waxed or naturally hairless for the most part. But the guy must be due some kind of bulking up growth spurt, because he’d seriously been given way too much to work with in the cock department. It was like a factory mix-up—Puck was the kind of guy who was supposed to get things like that, not some guy who looked and sounded like puberty hadn’t paid him a visit yet. Puck liked to think the tightness in his chest was jealousy.

Puck didn’t think he was standing there that long—because why the hell would he?—but he stood there long enough that Kurt must have sensed his presence, because his eyes fluttered open, blinking away the dripping water. Kurt’s eyelashes fluttered open and closed several times, as if he was sure he must be seeing things, before realizing that, yes, Puck really was standing there in front of him while he was having a shower.

Kurt Hummel screamed like a girl.

“What do you want?!” He started to turn to cover himself up, but he was either worried that Puck would take him presenting his ass as some kind of offer, or he was worried that turning around would leave him vulnerable to an attack. So, ultimately he ended up just turning to the left and pressing the front of his body up against the side of the shower stall, leaving his right arm flexed to strike out.

“Just wanted to borrow your soap,” Puck wasn’t sure why he’d lied, but it felt stupid to actually say that he’d come over to hit Kurt with a towel. Besides, he couldn’t think clearly when he was trying so hard not to look down.

“You’re holding soap,” Kurt spat defensively, and he was clearly expecting some kind of hazing ritual to take place. Puck looked down and saw that he had indeed managed to hold onto the bar of soap he’d carried in with him, even after dropping the wet towel.

Despite the familiarity that glee club had instilled, preventing Kurt from automatically fleeing when he and Puck were alone, Kurt obviously had no illusions that the boy had suddenly become some kind soul who would never hurt him. Puck was happy that someone remembered what a badass he was, and he considered going along with what Kurt expected—maybe threatening to wash his mouth out with soap for saying whatever stuck-up crap he usually said? But it was too hard—it was too _tempting_ —to look down, and Puck didn’t want to give this loser the satisfaction of thinking that Puck wanted to have a look.

“Grabbed the wrong kind, it gives me a rash,” Puck was a practiced liar, and he pretended not to notice how scared Kurt was, figuring that if he acted like it was normal for him to be standing there, then Kurt wouldn’t feel the need to tell anybody about this. Sure, he could threaten him not to say anything, but that would just encourage him in thinking that Puck was checking him out.

Kurt handed over a circular, pale green, bar of soap, all the while making a face indicating how grossed out he was at the idea of Puck using his soap, “Keep it.”

Even after Puck walked away, Kurt stayed huddled where he was, not moving until Puck took his place on the opposite end of the showers.

For his part, Puck started the water and tried not to feel weird about using the same soap that Kurt had just rubbed all over his body.

\----

For the rest of the day, Puck did an excellent job of pushing all things Kurt Hummel out of his mind. It wasn’t until he was laying in bed trying to sleep that he started getting mental flashes of Kurt standing there in the shower, unaware that Puck was so close, face unguarded, water dripping down off of his—

NO!

Puck forced the thought out of his mind. _Boobs, boobs, boobs, boobs, boobs._ He tried to remember every pair he’d ever seen, flipping over and slapping his head into his pillow each time Kurt Hummel’s cock forced its way into the slideshow in his mind. Only in his very last moments of semi-consciousness did Puck think to hope that he wouldn’t end up dreaming of a person with a combination of Kurt’s cock and Santana’s boobs.

\----

Puck’s dreams were thankfully cock-free, but his conscious mind wasn’t so lucky. When he saw Kurt the next morning, walking down the hallway, hooked at the elbow with Mercedes, Puck’s brain started up again. Kurt was wearing tight red jeans, and who the hell knows what on top because Puck had lost all ability to focus on anything else.

How did Kurt keep all of that hidden in those pants he wore? Even when he had a long sweater on, it might as well have been painted on. What did he do if some hot guy brushed up against him or something? Did he keep it strapped down? Fuck, what the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t give this much attention to his _own_ dick.

“Is there something you want?” Puck heard Kurt ask icily as he and Mercedes neared him, and he looked up to realize he’d been caught staring again.

“I _want_ to shove you into a locker, but I’m too much of a gentleman to do it while you’re attached to a lady,” Puck reached for Mercedes’ hand and attempted to place a kiss on it, but she flicked him away with a _‘boy, please'_ as she and Kurt continued walking—they’d never even stopped. Puck could overhear Kurt telling her that Finn had told Puck to control his impulses to shove Kurt around.

Puck rolled his eyes at Kurt’s adoring tone, but Finn had been right—Puck had a problem with impulse control.

\----

It wasn’t like Puck was ever going to ask Finn’s advice on this though.

 _Hey, Finn, I can’t keep my eyes off of the gay boy’s cock. You wanna help me gouge ‘em out?_ Finn would probably start asking him if he was gay and then warning him not to use Hummel for sex or something.

Well fuck _that_ , Puck would rather let his impulses take them wherever they were gonna go.

So it was that after the next practice, Puck found himself trying to casually hang around to watch Kurt get dressed, unable to find an excuse to stick around as Matt kept talking to him. _Go away, Matt!_

\----

Okay. So maybe Puck was driving himself crazy.

Instead of listening to whatever song Rachel was currently singing, he was sitting in the choir room wondering what Kurt looked like when he was hard. There was that saying “showers versus growers,” right? He couldn’t possibly be a grower at that size—there was no way it could get bigger, right?

And maybe he was having some kind of a breakdown, because why was he so obsessed? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about this? He felt like if he could just get another look, his curiosity would be satisfied, and he could go back to normal.

He’d tried looking at porn—straight porn, a man and a woman, even if he was just looking at it for the guy this _one_ time—but it wasn’t the same. This wasn’t someone sitting right there across the choir room, looking so small, but hiding something so unexpected.

Puck found himself staring at Kurt’s crotch, until the other boy suddenly crossed his legs. Puck’s eyes darted up, and sure enough he saw Kurt frowning at him and looking worried.

Puck excused himself to go to the bathroom, embarrassed that he kept getting caught. He wasn’t used to needing to hide when he was checking somebody out. Even when it came to Quinn he’d never had anybody ask “hey, why’re you checking out Finn’s girl?” It was Puck, he was a flirt, he was walking sex, and it was just expected. But this wasn’t winking at Tina or checking out Mercedes’ boobs when she wore a low-cut top—this was Kurt, and Puck needed to be more careful.

\----

Of course, to Puck, being careful meant hiding out after football practice, and then returning to the locker room to peek around a row of lockers to watch Kurt getting dressed. Showing up in the showers again would have been obvious, but this way Puck could keep himself out of sight, get his look when Kurt dropped the towel, and move on from this whole thing.

Which would have worked fine if Kurt hadn’t looked up to see Puck peeking around the locker that he was leaning on.

“What are you doing?!” Kurt screamed, still wrapped in a towel, but grabbing the closest item of clothing—his football jersey—to hold in front of himself anyway.

“I thought I heard something, I didn’t realize anyone else was still in here,” Puck stepped out from behind the locker, as if he’d just been walking in, even though he’d been rather obviously perched in that location for a while.

“You were watching me get dressed!” Kurt shouted, ignoring Puck’s explanation, and choosing instead to state the obvious.

“You wish,” Puck looked uncomfortable, and he walked over to the locker where he’d purposely left his book bag. “I’m here for my book bag, I’m not stopping you from getting dressed.”

“No, I _do not_ wish, and I’d prefer it if you weren’t watching me get dressed. And, actually, while you’re at it, it would be great not to worry that you’re creeping on me when I’m in the shower, or staring between my legs, or—” Kurt witnessed the speed that had proven to be Puck’s primary talent on the field, as Puck bounded over to shove Kurt back into the lockers. Kurt flinched, but he held eye contact and refused to back down. “I didn’t tell anybody, if that’s what you’re worried about, but hitting me isn’t going to make it any less true.”

There was a long silence before Puck responded, during which Kurt wasn’t sure if he should just expect a punch to the jaw or if he should be worried that Puck was going to molest him or something.

“Fine, I was looking,” Puck admitted, “But, what do you expect with that thing—” Puck raised his voice, waiving his hands at the towel covering Kurt’s body. “It’s really out of proportion with your body, alright.”

Kurt’s eyes narrowed, “Wow, well _that_ was offensive.”

“Whatever, I’m not telling you something you don’t know,” Puck stepped back, not comfortable standing so close to Kurt after admitting that he had been looking, “If _anybody_ ’s in a position to make comparisons, you sure as hell are.”

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” Kurt’s voice took on the bitchy, offended quality that it seemed to get whenever Puck called him gay, which made sense considering that’s exactly what Puck was saying.

“It means I’m sure you pay more attention to dick than I do,” Puck felt more confident with that distance between them again, but Kurt shook him up with his response.

“You certainly pay more attention to mine than I do to yours,” Kurt snapped, throwing his jersey over his head, apparently deciding that rushing out of there in dirty clothes would be preferable to wriggling into the tight outfit he’d worn to school that day.

“Whatever,” Puck bristled, ““ _Everybody_ pays attention to mine. Yours is a fucking a waste anyway—not like you’re ever gonna get to do anything with it.”

“Yeah, because a gay man with a large _cock_ is such a _tragedy_ ,” Kurt drawled sarcastically, stepping into a pair of track pants that must have been stashed in his locker. Puck shrugged and Kurt looked down at him with thinly veiled annoyance, “Puck, does the term ‘size queen’ mean anything to you?”

Rolling his eyes when Puck made a face indicating he had no idea what the hell Kurt was talking about, Kurt grabbed his bag and hurried to get out of the locker room, “Look it up.”

\----

Wikipedia was Puck’s friend.

> A **size queen** is slang terminology for a person who prefers a larger-than-average penis.[1] The term was first used in the gay community and has spread to the larger LGBT, kink and sex-positive communities as well as mainstream society referring to not only gay men but anyone who has or is accused of having this preference.
> 
> _Size Queen_ : (Noun) A person who prefers large male genitalia for sexual intercourse.

 

Eh, Puck had worse things in his Internet history….then again, with this and all of that information he’d learned about the prostate when he’d followed up on Finn’s lie, he thought he should start clearing some of that history out pretty soon.

\----

After the first bell had rung, signaling the end of lunch, Puck stalked over to Kurt’s locker and tried to look threatening to any potential witnesses.

“So what’s your point?” He asked, sidling up beside Kurt as the smaller boy looked at himself in his locker mirror. “That your people invented cock worship? Still a waste, it’s not like you’re ever gonna use it.”

“I don’t like to indulge in stereotypes,” Kurt responded without actually looking at Puck, choosing instead to fix his already perfect hair, “But gay, single, young men aren’t exactly known for celibacy, are they?”  
  
“Oh yeah,” Puck was all about the sarcasm today, “I see people beating down your door trying to get some.”  
  
“Puck, in a few short years _I_ will be living in New York City, where I’m quite sure my…options will open up,” Kurt flicked his hair, and it fell into place looking exactly the same at it always seemed to look. Puck didn’t like the idea of Kurt Hummel in New York as some gay social butterfly; the image made him uncomfortable, and he told himself it was because he didn’t want to imagine all of the gay sex Kurt would be having.

“Yeah, _you’ll_ open up,” Puck tried to ease some of his discomfort by making a joke about Kurt’s masculinity, “But you’re not exactly a pitcher are you?”

“Brittany assures me I make an excellent ‘pitcher’,” Kurt slammed his locker and stormed off. He hadn’t looked at Puck once during their entire conversation.

\----

Puck was pissed at himself for following up on what Kurt had told him, but there was no way he was taking Hummel’s word for it. So he hung around Cheerio’s practice, convincing Matt to distract Santana so that Puck could talk to Brittany alone afterwards.

“You hooked up with Kurt, right?” Puck asked, as it was best to just jump right in with Brittany to avoid any confusing tangents and make it easy for her to understand what you were asking.

“Yep,” Brittany nodded, “He helped me keep my record in tact.”

“But he actually…,” Puck punched the palm of his hand several times, “You know, did the job?”

Brittany scrunched up her nose, “I don’t know what your punching means.”

“I mean, did he do a good job,” Puck clarified, clarifying even further when Brittany just stared at him blankly, “At sex. Did he do a good job at sex? Was he good?”

“Kurt and I never had _sex_. _Capital G gay_ , Puck, all we did was make out,” Brittany smiled brightly, “He was good at making out though—I got to feel his soft baby hands.”

Puck smiled at her admission, watching her wiggle her hands, “Thanks, Britt, that’s good to know.”

He started to leave, but the Cheerio pulled him back and leaned in conspiratorially, “If you get the chance, get him to give you a facial—it’s amazing.”

\----

Puck didn’t even wait until classes started the next day to find Kurt, toss a slushie on him in the hallway, shove him around the corner, and then drag him into the bathroom in another hallway under the guise of cleaning him off.

“What the hell, Puck?” Kurt was fuming, wiping syrupy ice off of his sweater.

“That was an example of _chivalry_ ,” Puck stated as Kurt stopped glaring at him to focus on attempting to clean himself off. “You know, it’s not very nice, telling people you’ve slept with Brittany, even though it never happened.”

“You don’t know anything about my life, or what I do when you’re not around,” Kurt was once again not looking at him, instead choosing to smack a faucet that refused to turn on. He probably figured it was safer than smacking Puck.

“Well, if it happened, it must not have been all that special, because Brittany doesn’t remember it at all,” Puck walked up behind him where he stood at the sink and whispered in his ear, “I asked her how you were in bed—”

“You actually _asked_ her that?!” Kurt interrupted, whipping around so fast that some of the slushie in his hair flew onto Puck’s shirt.

“Of course I asked her,” Puck looked down at his shirt and brushed the slushie residue off. It left a purple streak behind. “I’m supposed to believe you when you tell me something like that?”

“Fine. I lied. You caught me in a lie about having sex with a girl—I’m sure you feel a great sense of achievement,” Kurt responded coolly, walking out of the bathroom, still covered in slushie, and not looking back.

\----

It took two days before Puck realized that Kurt was avoiding him, and he wouldn’t have cared, except every time Kurt wasn’t somewhere that Puck normally saw him, Puck started wondering about where he was. It was the stupidest thing in the world, but he kept picturing Kurt off on some New York adventure making up for all the sex he never had in Lima, and that would be kind of hard to pull off during a 45 minute lunch period.

Even Puck didn’t really understand why he’d shown up at Kurt’s door on a Wednesday afternoon, so when the other boy answered, he just blurted out the first thing he could think of.

“I wanted to say sorry. For the slushing,” Puck shoved his hands in his jean pockets, feeling awkward for just showing up like this, and Kurt just looked at him blankly, so he continued, “I didn’t have your number and I didn’t want to ask anybody for it—well, I asked Brittany, but she said you told her she wasn’t allowed to talk to me about you anymore.”

Kurt stepped back, opening the door a bit wider and silently inviting Puck into his house. He didn’t say anything as he led his surprise visitor downstairs, and if Puck hadn’t heard Brittany and Finn talking about Kurt’s basement room, Puck would be worried that Kurt was going all psycho-revenge-against-the-bully on him down there.

“Take your shoes off, I just vacuumed,” Kurt instructed as they descended the stairs, and for the first time Puck looked down to see that Kurt was wearing fuzzy purple slippers that matched his stretchy purple dress shirt and yoga pants.

Puck took his shoes off and placed them near the staircase beside a large pair of paint-splattered work boots that Puck suspected belonged to Kurt’s father. When he finished, he saw that Kurt was watching him, waiting for him to finish before heading to sit on the end of his bed. Puck looked around at his options before sitting at an angle to Kurt, on the side of his bed.

“Why are you here, Puck?” Kurt sounded tired, even though it was early afternoon, and Puck had to assume it was weariness at trying to figure out why Puck was suddenly being so weird around him.

“Just wanted to stop by,” Puck flattened a small wrinkle in the bedspread, wishing he could just get what he wanted without actually asking for it.

“Well whatever you’re planning, you’re not being at all subtle about it,” Kurt was trying to sound snotty, but it was obvious he didn’t know what to make of Puck’s recent behavior, or his current silence. Kurt’s voice started to betray how scared he was that he was about to fall victim to a new form of harassment, “Just tell me, Puck. It’s not like I can stop you; at least tell me what I have to brace myself for. What, are you going to take naked pictures of me and post them all over the school?”

“Kurt, if I posted naked pictures of you all over the school, everyone in that school really _would_ be banging your door down trying to fuck you,” Puck rolled his eyes, annoyed that Kurt still seemed so oblivious. He looked over and saw that Kurt was looking at him with his mouth hanging open, and he looked away, trying to shrug it off as if he said things like this everyday, “Dude, what do you want me to say? Your dick is like, amazing—and this is coming from _me_. I’m the biggest stud in that school and I can’t stop thinking about it, so…fuck!” Puck dropped his head into his hands, unwilling to show his face as he actually said this. “I just want to see it again.”

“You…,” Kurt started, and Puck peeked over his left hand to see that the other boy looked confused—damn if Puck couldn't resist pouncing on vulnerable prey.

Puck licked his lips and looked down into his palms, just for a second, before looking back up at Kurt, “Can I see it again, Kurt?”

“What?!” Kurt shrieked, snapping out of whatever trance he’d been in.

“It’s not a big deal, I just want to see it,” Puck shrugged, aiming for casual, but showing signs of agitation and restlessness—bouncing his leg ever so slightly, twitching his fingers, rolling his neck from side to side—he looked like it was taking some control not to do…something.

“No!” Kurt crossed his legs protectively.

“Why not?” Puck knew he sounded whiney, but he didn’t like not getting what he wanted. It wasn’t like he was asking much, why was Kurt being such a prude?

“Because I have too much self-respect for myself to start stripping down for you because you’re suddenly fascinated with one part of my body,” Kurt huffed out.

“Come on, it’s not like I want to touch it,” Puck’s leg was still bouncing restlessly.

“That doesn’t make it better! I’m not some sideshow curiosity for you to ogle.”

“Would it make it better if I _did_ want to touch it?” Puck looked confused.

Kurt started to shout no again, but choked on the answer as he realized he wasn’t sure. Would he show Puck what he wanted if it meant that he wouldn’t have to wait until graduation to have another boy touching him intimately? The blush emerging on his cheeks was a sure sign that he was considering it. He looked over at Puck and the emerging smirk on the other boy’s face shook him out of his contemplation.

“No! I don’t just hook up with random cavemen who try to drag me home,” Kurt tried to look down at Puck, but the other boy still had that smirk on his face. Kurt’s voice shook under his gaze, “And I didn’t want to have to resort to this, but if you continue to sexually harass me, I’m going to have to seek the advice of my friends and family regarding your obsession with getting me to take my pants off.”

“Like anyone would believe the Puckmeister needs to make moves on you,” Puck leaned back on Kurt’s bed, feeling more comfortable as he thought about how absurd that thought would seem to anybody who knew the two of them.

“Maybe not,” Kurt dug down to bring his bitch out, “But they will find it curious when Brittany tells them that you were very interested in how good I was at sex.”

“She’s not the most reliable source, though, is she?”

“You believed her.”

“Brittany saying that you were too gay to have sex with her is a lot different from Brittany saying I’m so gay I want to have sex with you.”

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Do you want to have sex with me? Is that why you’re here?”

It was Puck’s turn to choke on his immediate ‘no’ answer—why the hell was he here? He’d just been so obsessed with seeing Hummel naked again…okay, maybe he’d want to touch him, but he wasn’t gay, he wasn’t even bi, he didn’t want to put anything in him—and he damn sure didn’t want Kurt to put anything in _him_.

“I told you, I just want to see it…hey, you show me yours, I’ll show you mine,” Puck offered playfully, pretending he wasn’t worried about Kurt’s threat. If he acted like no one would believe Kurt, then maybe Kurt wouldn’t bother to say anything. And if Kurt was going to say something…well, then Puck might as well see what he came to see.

“I wasn’t aware we were still in _elementary_ school.”

“You never outgrow a fair trade,” Puck winked and then started pulling his shirt over his head.

“I’m not showing you, you’re wasting your time,” Kurt said, but he didn’t turn away when Puck started undoing the top button of his jeans. Puck stood up to unzip his zipper, taking a step closer to Kurt.

“What are you doing?” Kurt’s voice came out breathy, fading away when Puck dropped his jeans to the floor. For a moment, the room was filled with sound of heavy breathing, most of it coming from Kurt, whose eyes were opened wide as they scanned over Puck’s body.

“Mine is bigger,” Kurt breathed out softly, before blushing as he realized what he’d said.

“Thanks for that,” Puck smiled, because despite his words, Kurt was damn near drooling over him. Puck stroked his stomach, bathing in the attention and enjoying the feeling that he always got when someone admired his body. “You really never looked at me before?”

“I tend to avoid such hazardous…behavior,” Kurt lost interest in continuing his sentence as Puck’s hand slipped lower and he started stroking himself. There was something about having a rapt audience that just made Puck want to hold onto the attention. And in this case he knew that keeping Kurt in a lust-filled haze would keep him from being such a petulant bitch about everything Puck asked.

“Kurt…Kurt?” Puck spoke so softly that it took him a few times to get Kurt’s attention. He was in full-on seduction mode, and it was effective even when someone had his or her guard up, “Take your clothes off—not—I don’t want to do anything.” Puck tried to reassure Kurt when the other boy looked worried. “I just want to see you, Kurt. It’s just the contrast—your size…” Puck trailed off as Kurt reached trembling hands to start unbuttoning his shirt.

“If this is a joke, I’m pointing you out to my dad at our next football game and telling him way more than he’ll want to hear about you getting my clothes off,” Kurt kept his eyes on his buttons as he spoke, but Puck nodded his understanding anyway, just happy to be getting what he wanted.

Kurt took the time to fold his shirt once he’d taken it off, and Puck stroked himself mostly just to keep his hands occupied. Kurt didn’t stand to take his pants off, instead looping his thumbs in the waistband and lifting himself to pull them down. He stopped when his pants were down around his hips, took a deep breath, and reached up to catch his briefs with his thumbs as well, taking both layers off at the same time.

Kurt was visibly nervous—shoulders tense, and knees pressed together as he avoided meeting Puck’s eyes.

“Open your legs,” Puck growled out, shocking Kurt, who looked up expecting to see smarmy-lust-bucket-Puck, but instead seeing Puck looking utterly amazed. Kurt could see Puck’s chest moving as the other man panted at the sight before him, and Kurt found himself complying, feeling awkward as he spread his legs to give Puck a better view. Puck just stood there for a moment, staring, and reveling in the fact that he could stand there and just look all he wanted. I mean, it was right there…

Puck lowered himself back onto the bed, darting a tongue out to wet his lips, and reaching out—

“Wait!” Kurt held a hand out and lifted his leg to block Puck’s access, “Just…you can touch, but that’s it, okay? We’re not going to be _doing_ anything.”

“I told you I don’t want to do anything. I’m not fucking gay, dude,” Puck mumbled as he reached out to touch Kurt’s cock, letting his fingertips land on its underside, trailing them upward softly and causing it to jump, taking them both by surprise.

“I think he likes me,” Puck laughed, smiling up at Kurt in a rare unguarded moment.

Kurt sucked in a gasp of air at how gorgeous Puck looked when he smiled, and started hardening under his gaze.

“Fuck, you’re a grower,” Puck’s hand closed around Kurt’s mounting erection, pressing down and enjoying the resistance it offered. He was fascinated with the feel, amazed at how different it felt to have someone else’s dick in his hand. Kurt was so pale, and Puck couldn’t help but think that the bright pink of his blood-filled cock was an insanely beautiful sight. He’d never admit to anybody that he’d actually thought that, but he couldn’t keep his admiration out of his voice. “Ufff, do you know what I would _do_ with this if it were mine?”

“Stick it places?” Kurt tried to make a snappy comeback, but it was hard when he was trying not to come all over himself. The sensation of having one of the hottest guys in school fondling him was proving to be a bit much for a first-timer to handle.

“Definitely,” Puck laughed a breathy laugh, “Right now, though, I just wanna hold you in my lap and jerk you off pretending this is mine.” Puck’s hand was already starting to move up and down ever so slightly.

“You’d better hurry up then,” Kurt admitted, grabbing handfuls of the bedspread in an effort to maintain some self-control, “Seriously, we’re talking seconds here.”

Puck didn’t hesitate in scooping Kurt up into his lap, wrapping his arms around the other boy’s waist, and tipping Kurt’s head back against his shoulder so Puck could get a good look at what he was doing.

He hissed into Kurt’s ear as he jerked him off, not speaking any words as he tried to fall into the illusion that he was doing this to himself—that this cock belonged to him, and he could do this anytime that he wanted. Far too quickly, Kurt let out a high-pitched series of moans, getting louder and louder as his orgasm built, and then coming all over Puck’s hand with a surprisingly masculine grunt.

Puck held on as Kurt de-flagged, watching and absent-mindedly spreading Kurt’s cum around as he continued to move his hand up and down.

“Kurt, are you oak—OH MY GOD!!!”

Kurt cringed as Puck squeezed tighter in shock, but both boys’ eyes widened when they looked over and saw a large be-flannelled man turning his back from the scene he’d just walked in on.

“Dad!” Kurt squeaked, scrambling out of Puck’s lap and grabbing his discarded pants from where they were still pooled at his feet.

“Oh fuck—” Puck hurried to pull his jeans on, ignoring the glare that he received from Kurt—what, was he mad that he’d cursed in front of his father? What the hell did he expect him to say? _‘Nice to meet you sir’_? Puck snuck a glance and saw that Kurt’s dad was on his way out of the basement, and from what he could see of the man’s profile, he was shell-shocked. “He knows, right? About you, I mean.”

“What that I’m _gay_?” Kurt snapped at him, trying to button up his shirt with shaking fingers, “Of course he _knows_. It doesn’t mean he wants to walk in on it!”

When his shirt was buttoned up, he smoothed it down and calmly followed the path that his father had taken, stopping only to spin around and order Puck to stay there.

“Do you need me to come with you?” Puck obviously didn’t want to be there for whatever Kurt was about to face from his father, but he almost wanted to go because he knew he’d be freaking out if he was stuck down there wondering what was going on upstairs.

“I highly doubt that would help,” Kurt’s condescending tone was back, “I’m going to say we were just fooling around and things got out of hand.”

“I’m pretty sure the _just fooling around_ explanation has never worked on a parent in the history of forever,” Puck spoke from _a lot_ of experience.

“If I say you’re my boyfriend, he’ll expect to see you around. If I say you’re some asshole who’s just obsessed with my dick, he’ll beat you with a monkey wrench. The best story here is that we met in football and then glee, you stopped by to hang out, and I asked you if we could fool around. You were very reluctant because you’re straight, but you agreed that I shouldn’t have to go through high school without at least fooling around. It was a one-time thing, and after today we’re going to pretend it didn’t happen. You get to play the innocent little straight boy who I seduced with offers of friendship and you won’t have sit though some _don’t break my boy’s heart_ speech.”

“I’m down with that—especially the part about pretending it never happened,” Puck ignored the bitterness in Kurt’s tone, happy that he seemed to have a plan that would keep his father off of Puck’s back, “Meaning we don’t tell _any_ body.”

Kurt glared at Puck, “Please, I could videotape you draped naked across my bed, saying _‘I’m in love with Kurt Hummel’s cock’_ , and nobody would believe me. Besides,” Kurt brushed his hair aside, and Puck was starting to wonder if that was a nervous tic, “I don’t exactly have a desire to tell a story that makes me look so pathetic as to offer myself up for the jerk who used to shove me in dumpsters, throw pee balloons at me, and who I’m sure was behind nailing my lawn furniture to my roof—not to mention the slushie tossing that’s apparently still occurring.”

Kurt whipped around angrily and stomped up the stairs, leaving Puck to pace around on Kurt’s freshly vacuumed carpet. Puck briefly contemplated sliding out of one of the basement windows, but he knew that could seriously backfire if Kurt’s dad wanted to speak with him and he’d run off. The last thing he needed was some lumberjack hunting him down and reaming him out in public for jacking off his son and running off.

He couldn’t just stand there waiting though, so he decided that there was no real reason to respect the privacy of a father-son conversation that was probably centered around him, and he crept up the stairs to listen in. Wherever the Hummels were, they were close enough that Puck could just barely make out Kurt’s voice.

“…Puck,” Kurt’s voice was soft, and Puck wished he could’ve heard what he’d said leading up to his name. There were a few long seconds before he heard a response.

“Is this the kid that got Finn’s girlfriend pregnant? Didn’t you spend most of last year begging me not to go after him for egging you every time you left the house?”

“Yeah, same guy,” Kurt sounded embarrassed, and for some reason Puck’s stomach felt like it was sinking.

“Kurt, I don’t understand this. I don’t understand what you were thinking,” Kurt’s dad was obviously flustered, and Puck had this irrational desire to go out there and take the blame so that Kurt wouldn’t have to face whatever disappointment or discomfort was probably written all over his father’s face.

Puck shook off the urge though, telling himself that it wasn’t his responsibility to run around saving the day for Kurt Hummel. He certainly wasn’t his boyfriend, they weren’t even friends, and his father was probably going to catch him boning some guy one day anyway, so they might as well have this conversation now.

“I don’t know,” Puck had to strain to hear Kurt’s response, “I just…there’s not exactly a long line of boys showing me any interest. He was…willing.”

“So you ignore everything this kid has done to you—and to Carole’s son—because you wanted to get laid? I thought you had more respect for yourself than that, Kurt.” Puck cringed as Kurt’s dad spoke words that echoed Kurt’s own. Even Puck knew how much Kurt’s self-confidence and self-respect meant to him; it had to be killing him to have his father questioning it. “Maybe it’s my fault for telling you I wasn’t ready to discuss boys with you, but as your father, I’m telling you now—you’re worth more than that kind of behavior. I expect so much more of you than that.”

“It’s not like that.” _Fuck_ , Puck could tell from Kurt’s voice that he was crying. “I’m not so desperate that I’d hook up with some guy who hates me just because he happened to show an interest in my body.”

“Kurt—” Kurt’s dad must have heard the self-hate in Kurt’s words; it was so obvious that he might as well have said _‘I hate that I’m so desperate that I’d hook up with some guy who hates me just because he happened to show an interest in my body.’_

“No! Puck’s stood up for me—protected me. He’s stayed late to help my kicking, and he plays guitar when I’m practicing new songs.” The more Kurt lied about what a great guy Puck was, the more Puck felt like a complete dick. Kurt probably fantasized about some guy doing those things for him. “He’s the only guy I trusted enough to ask to do something like this for me. And he gave it a chance because he didn’t want me to graduate as some pathetic virgin.”

“So you’re telling me that kid was down there doing you a favor?” Kurt must have nodded because his dad let out a disbelieving sigh.

“You don’t have to worry about it happening again,” Kurt sounded absolutely depressed.

“I hope not. I hope that the next time you do something like that it’s with somebody who really _does_  do all those nice things for you,” his father’s voice softened, and for a second Puck wondered if Kurt had worked the depression angle to keep himself out of trouble—Puck certainly wasn’t above breaking out the tears when his mom caught him doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing, “And I hope that all that happens when you’re thirty years old and doing it somewhere that I can never possibly walk in on you.”

“Yeah dad,” Kurt chuckled softly.

“I’m not going embarrass you by asking to speak with this kid, but you need to ask him to leave.” When Puck heard that he tiptoed back downstairs as quickly as possible, finally pulling his shirt back on, and sitting by the stairs to pull his shoes back on. He was lacing up his left sneaker when Kurt opened the door and started descending the stairs.

“Everything okay?” Puck asked without looking, knowing he’d probably get an eye-full of tear-soaked cheeks and embarrassment.

“It’s fine; you need to leave though,” Kurt answered as he stepped past Puck and headed over to sit at his vanity.

“I was heading out anyway,” Puck shrugged, standing up and seeing in the reflection of Kurt’s vanity mirror that he’d been right about the tear-streaked face, but not the embarrassment. Kurt just looked tired again, “Thanks for, you know…”

“Whatever,” Kurt rolled his eyes, picking up a green tube and squeezing the contents on his fingertips.

Puck felt like he should offer to help Kurt with his kicking, or play some guitar, but the reality was that he just didn’t want to. What could he do that would make him feel like less of a dick? He did like Kurt’s girly little voice.

“Can you sing me a song before I leave?” Puck leaned against the banister, watching Kurt dot green goop under his eyes.

“My voice isn’t in the best shape right now,” Kurt’s reflection looked at Puck with reddish eyes, and Puck had to guess that Kurt didn’t trust his voice not to shake from the crying he’d done.

“Oh…look, I didn’t mean to get you in trouble—”

“Just _go_ , Puck…please. The longer you’re here the longer I have to wait before forgetting this ever happened,” Kurt’s hands were now clenched in fists atop his vanity table, and he was holding his eyes open in a transparent effort not to cry.

Puck nodded, turning to leave, pausing on the second step from the bottom, “This doesn’t have to be a one time thing,” Puck heard himself saying.

“Yes, it does,” Kurt stated firmly, pressing his mouth tight and staring at himself in the mirror, “You got what you wanted. You don’t get it again.”

Puck nodded, and left—he wasn’t okay with it…but he left.


End file.
